The Dinosaur Feather

plate.
    ‘I’ve just been baking,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And made a fresh pot of tea. You looking for anything in particular?’
    Søren suddenly realised how hungry he was and took a slice of cake.
    ‘Someone’s got an apple obsession,’ he remarked.
    Susanne Winther laughed.
    ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? You were looking for a dining table? I happen to have one in the back. Do you want to have a look? You did want a solid wood one, didn’t you? That was you?’
    Søren stood up abruptly.
    ‘I’m from the police,’ he said, feeling guilty as he wiped a crumb from the corner of his mouth. Susanne Winther chuckled and winked at him. Then she froze.
    ‘Please tell me you’re joking?’ she said. For the second timethat day, he pulled out his badge. Susanne Winther buried her face in her hands.
    ‘Is Magnus all right?’
    Somewhere, at the back of Søren’s mind, an alarm went off.
    ‘I’m here because Johannes Trøjborg’s dead and I have reason to believe that you knew him.’ Søren waited for her reaction. She seemed relieved.
    ‘Sorry,’ she said and slumped down on a sofa. ‘But that’s dreadful. What happened? Christ Almighty. I’ve a little boy. Magnus. He’s seven months old and he’s at home with his daddy. For a moment, I thought something terrible had happened to them. That they had been killed.’ She gave Søren a dazed look. ‘So Johannes is dead? How? Did he have a crash? Why are you here?’
    ‘Were you Johannes Trøjborg’s girlfriend two to three years ago?’ Søren asked.
    ‘Yes, we were an item. For a year. But we haven’t seen each other for ages.’ Again she buried her face in her hands. ‘But, Jesus Christ, I spoke to him recently,’ she said, ‘less than two weeks ago. We were really good friends, or whatever you call it when you don’t see each other very often. He was keen to see Magnus. He promised to call soon and arrange a time when he was less busy. That’s why I didn’t worry that I hadn’t heard from him. So he’s dead?’ She stared at Søren.
    ‘Did he have a crash?’ she asked again.
    Søren shook his head.
    Susanne Winther closed the shop and called her husband. Søren could hear her speak in a low voice in the back room.It sounded as if she was crying. Søren helped her carry two chests on the pavement back inside the shop. Together, they walked to his car and Søren opened the door for her. The sun was shining and he put on his sunglasses. He slid his mobile into its holder and inserted his earpiece. Two messages. The first one was unimportant, and the other was from Henrik, wondering where the hell he was. There was still no sign of Dr Tybjerg and Henrik wanted to know if they should issue a wanted by police notice or what? They needed a breakthrough, no matter how small. Søren hated it when Henrik lectured him, and was about to get annoyed when he spotted a newspaper headline outside a newsagent.
    P SYCHO P ROF KILLS AGAIN it said in large letters, and below that
Cops clueless
. At the same time he heard Henrik’s recorded voice:
    ‘I don’t know if you’ve seen the tabloids today, but the Police Commissioner just charged past the office with steam coming out of his ears. He’s looking for you as well. I think the time is ripe for a press conference and you need to find something we can feed the sharks with. So, see ya! Honestly, mate, what do you think you’re doing?’ And he hung up.
    Søren and Susanne Winther drove in silence. Suddenly, Søren’s mobile rang. It was Henrik again.
    ‘Where the hell are you?’ he shouted.
    ‘I’ll be at the station in three minutes. Can you sort out an interview room for me? I’m with Susanne Winther, Johannes Trøjborg’s ex-girlfriend.’
    ‘I get the impression that you suspect me of something,’ Susanne began, when Søren had hung up. ‘An interview. That sounds very serious.’ She looked at Søren. ‘Johannes and I were together for just under a year, a couple of years ago. Itseems a little over the top to be picked up by the police and brought in for questioning without warning.’
    Søren was tempted to exploit her uncertainty and let her roast in the silence. He was good at that.
    ‘We don’t suspect you of anything,’ he said, kindly. ‘Of course we don’t. But I need to understand what kind of person Johannes was, in order to find out who killed him. I need your help. I really need your help.’
    Susanne Winther sighed.
    ‘All right,’ she said.
    Susanne